Who Are You?
by DistractedlyHere
Summary: FM Shipping. After CoTP. Fluff, angst, death, love, you name it. I had a long plane ride so I cleaned up some typos. No updates on the actual story but I removed a couple of lines and rerated too.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One – A Plan Awry

Danny had worked the whole scene out in his head. Maka was meeting him to go out just as Lindsay would be finishing up her reports on the trace she had run that day. The date with Maka was one in a series, but not a relationship. It was hook-ups, no harm no foul for him, what's one more? And he would be able to see once and for all if Lindsay had any interest in him. If there was anything there, seeing him with the gorgeous Asian Detective would certainly evoke some reaction. But what Danny hadn't counted on was the suit in Mac's office. He had come about an hour ago with a file. He showed something to Mac, they called in one more suit and then called in Lindsay.

Danny watched through the glass wall as Mac motioned for her to sit down. Mac did all the talking. Danny could only see her profile, but her expression was grave. After the initial introductions, she said almost nothing. Mac said something, he seemed intense, but calm and measured. The suit pulled out a crime scene photo and handed it to Lindsay. She looked at it stone-faced. And then looked at Mac and shook her head. No. Mac said only a few words. Again, she shook her head, No. She looked from Mac to each of the suits. Her face seemed to be making a plea, or a plead. No. No. No.

Don Flack came out of the elevator. He was still on leave after the explosion, and was going stir crazy. He had to get back and soon. He had scheduled time with Mac to enlist his help in an attempt to get off of leave early. When he saw the suits and Monroe in the office with Mac, he headed across the hall to wait it out with Danny.

"Hey" Flack said. He was wearing a Yankees tee shirt and jeans. He looked like a younger version of himself without the suit. But even in jeans and a tee shirt he still seemed crisp around the edges, you almost wondered, had he ironed that tee shirt?

"Hey" Danny replied. He was going through the motions of running some kind of samples, but Flack could tell that it was the exchange in Mac's office that had his attention. Flack didn't blame him. It seemed tense in there.

"Who's that?" Flack asked motioning with his head across the hall.

"I don't know." Danny said only glancing at his friend. The friend he should have been glad to see out and about after the accident. Flack wasn't walking with a cane anymore and if you weren't looking for it you wouldn't even notice the limp. Physical Therapy was paying off.

The pair watched in silence. Lindsay put the photo down on Mac's desk and pushed it away from herself. This time she addressed only him. Her head shook again, but not as strongly. No. She made a few impassioned statements to Mac. And Mac calmly answered her, again in a short measured response.

"IAB?" Flack asked.

"That's what I'm thinking." Danny replied. "But they're none I've seen before."

"Can you think what they might want to be talking to her about?"

"No." Danny was making short notes in his evidence notebook, but they couldn't be about the sample he was still holding, as he hadn't looked away from the office since Lindsay started shaking her head No. He was trying to think of anything, any case, any interview he had ever seen Lindsay do anything anyone could possibly consider improper. If they were accusing her of something, she was right to deny it.

She closed her eyes, and a shudder seemed to start at her shoulders pass through her whole body. Acceptance. She asked Mac a short question. He answered Yes. Another question, the second suit answered, but Lindsay wouldn't look away from Mac. She repeated her question. Mac nodded, and looked down. Through the glass wall it seemed he was saying he would try.

It was then Danny was reminded of his own self-assured, and ill-founded plan, when Maka came out of the elevator. She walked up to the two men.

"Messer don't tell me you're planning on wearing that lab coat out." Danny didn't meet her eyes. She looked across the hall to see what it was that had the pair of Detectives riveted.

"What's psych services want with Monroe?" she asked.

That got both men to bolt their heads around and look at her. "What?"

"That mousy looking guy," She said gesturing across the hall. "He's from psych services. Monroe been getting out of line with suspects? Too heavy-handed in interrogations?"

"No." Danny answered. His expression relayed that he thought that was a ludicrous suggestion.

"Well…Is the big city too much for our country girl? She breaking down on the clock." She raised an eyebrow.

"No way. She's tough as they come." Flack defended Lindsay out of an instinct he wasn't aware he possessed.

"Well boys, then there must have been a homicide in the family. They call psych services in to make sure an officer of the law isn't headed for revenge with their service revolver when they get the news." Danny was staring at Maka trying to absorb the weight of her words. Damnit, no. Lindsay was getting heart-wrenching news about someone she loved, and he wouldn't be there to comfort her, because he was with Maka. He recognized it instantly, and his mind immediately began searching for a way out of this date.

"Listen Maka, about tonight." He turned his body only slightly to face her, and continued to steal side glances at Monroe through the glass walls. "For one thing, she's been in there a while, and now she's behind on those samples," he said gesturing with one hand. "So that means I'm behind on those samples and so I'm already running late. Not to mention if you're right and she's getting bad news, she's gonna need a ride home."

"No way Messer," Maka's eyes smoldered. "You begged me for this date. We're going out. If your little friend needs a ride home, let a squad take her."

Flack knew the history between Maka and Messer. He also knew the speculation, both his own and others, that Danny had a thing for Monroe. That was the last thing she needed right now if she was grieving, Messer hitting on her, and taking advantage while she was vulnerable.

"I'll wait for her. I drove here. I'll take her home." Flack said. He shifted his weight, as that right leg was quick to get stiff. Truth be told, it was probably still too early for him to be driving, but he had driven over - though he already regretted it. He and Lindsay were friends. She was a sweet kid and she didn't need to be sobbing by herself in the back of a squad car or at the mercy of Messer in her hour of need.

Danny looked at Flack. He seemed to be assessing the risk of this scenario. Flack and Lindsay were friends, that was innocent enough. Flack was no Casanova, and he wasn't Danny Messer. Lindsay could never be interested in him. It was a big brother / little sister thing if anything. He looked to Maka who clearly wasn't backing down, or leaving without him.

"OK. Fine. Can we at least wait until they're done and she comes out?" His voice seemed angry but he wasn't yelling.

"No. We had plans for 6, its 6, and I'm hungry. Lets go."

Danny swallowed hard. He started to unbutton his lab coat and get ready to go, as he passed by Flack, Don whispered "Sweet girlfriend." And Danny shot him a glare. He made an attempt to stall and get ready slowly, but Maka was a good detective and saw right through it.. She would have none of it. She turned on her heel and headed to the elevator with Messer sulking behind her.

Flack was glad the pair had left, if for no other reason, he didn't have to pretend his leg wasn't killing him. He sat down on a lab stool facing Mac's office. As Danny's luck would have it, it was only a few minutes later that Mac rose to walk the suits out of his office and to the elevator. He left Monroe in his office with her back to the labs. He shook their hands and headed to where he had noticed Flack sitting. Flack nodded to him.

"Hey"

"Hey Don." Mac said, slapping him on the shoulder, he was truly glad to see him. "You're looking well."

"Yeah thanks. I guess this is what rest will do for you. That and if you could see under my shirt it still looks like a pizza someone tilted in the box." He smiled, dryly. "What's going on with Monroe?"

Mac walked around the lab table to the same side as Flack so both men were watching as Lindsay's shoulders seemed to show that he was crying. Her head was in her hands, elbows resting on Mac's desk. But it was only for a moment. She collected herself. They could see her as she steeled herself, braced her shoulders and opened the file the suits had left.

"Her Dad's been shot, he's dead." Mac said.

"Oh man." Flack closed his eyes and his hand went to his own chest as if he too were receiving a blow. Even to Mac he just didn't know what to say. "When?"

"Early this morning. He owns a hardware store in Montana. The police there are trying to determine if it was a robbery, or" Mac stopped. Maybe he was crossing a line, and shouldn't be sharing Lindsay's personal life with Flack. But in this job your coworkers are your family, and she needed family around her to support her now, "or suicide." He gave the words a moment to sink in. "She asked for a few moments alone."

"Let me guess, Monroe's the kind of girl that started many days with a call back home, and had just talked to him this morning."

Mac nodded. They watched as she carefully looked at the papers and photos in the file.

"Those case notes, and scene photos?"

"Yes. Her hometown police know she's a cop. They sent it all to our inter-department liaison, and he brought it here."

"The suit?" Flack asked.

Mac nodded. "She asked me to help ensure they would let see the crime scene. Of course, that's not protocol, but given that these guys already sent her everything on all evidence they have, I can't see it being a problem."

Lindsay collected all of the papers and photos and put them back in the file. She brushed away the tears from her cheeks, and stood up, her back to the labs. She felt as if she had been in that office for hours and she had no idea if shifts had changed, and who would be across the hall. When she turned, she was glad to see Flack and Mac who, upon seeing her get up, had turned to each other in conversation so as to not make her feel a spectacle.

Mac had delivered the news. They knew it would help her to hear it from him. What all of them, including Mac, didn't know was her own Father's respect for Mac. When he saw he couldn't persuade her to stay in Montana, he had steered her to NY, where in Mac's lab he knew she would be looked after.

Flack had been kind to her as she learned the ropes. He was smart and funny, occasionally sarcastic, but not biting, not like Messer, not to her anyway. She also knew he was a seasoned cop. He knew when not to push, when to not ask questions that would not be answered. So she was relieved that it was they who were there, and not Danny would always push lines.

She walked up to the two men. Flack got off of his stool and without consciously thinking about it, embraced her. "I'm sorry Monroe" he whispered at the top of her head.

She was stiff in his arms. She appreciated the thought, but this was still where she worked, where she was a professional and a hug in these walls felt out of place. She was glad for that awkwardness, if she didn't feel that, she was afraid the pain, the fear, the grief would overtake her and she had to hold it together.

Flack released her and she gave a weak smile and whispered thanks.

"Why don't I get a squad car to take you home?" Mac suggested.

"No, no. I've got my car, I'll take you." Flack said to her softly, but intently. His brow was furrowed. She didn't like to impose, and certainly she knew Flack had his own issues right now. But she felt deflated and suddenly exhausted. A ride with a friend would be welcome.

"Are you sure?" she asked weakly.

"Yeah, yeah. Lets go when you're ready."

"Mac, the case…"

"We'll manage Lindsay. Call me in a few days when you know when you'll be back."

She nodded mutely, took off her lab coat, gathered a few things and took her place by Flack's side and nodded at him. As they were leaving, Mac said, "Lindsay, don't take this the wrong way, I'm sure there are capable people out there, but if you need anything, we have more equipment, more resources…we'll be here to offer help any way we can."

"Thanks Mac." She reached for his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. "That means a lot."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two – A Friend In Need

Flack opened the precinct door for her, and the door to his car. It didn't seem out of place to her. It was in his nature to be polite.

As soon as he sat down in the car and closed his door, she let out a sigh and began massaging her temples.

"You OK?" he hadn't started the car. He recognized if she were holding it all in, once out of the station and the street, this might be where the dam burst.

She bit her lip and looked at him.

"Yeah." She turned away and looked forward. He waited another minute, giving her the chance to talk if she wanted or needed to. When she didn't, he started the ignition and backed out.

"Flack, I have to make some calls, arrange flights, all that." She seemed concerned about it.

He nodded "Ok Monroe, do what you need to do."

"I don't want to be rude. I'm sorry." She said squinting.

"Rude to me?" He didn't understand.

She nodded, then realized he was driving and not looking at her. "Well, Yes. You're being so kind to drive me home. And I appreciate it, I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude, but I want to try to take advantage of the time difference and see if I can catch some people before they go home for the day."

He couldn't help but smile slightly at her courtesy. "Its OK Monroe. I mean it, do whatever you need to do."

She reached into her purse and pulled out her Treo. He noticed she knew right where it was, and made no effort to extract it. He remembered his Grandmother telling his sister that a lady will know the whereabouts of the contents of her bag, and not fumble through it.

She dialed a number and waited. "Chief Michaelson please. Lindsay Monroe."

Flack was trying to afford her some privacy but he heard every word.

"Hi Chief." Pause. "Thank you sir. Can you tell me if my sisters have also been informed?" Pause and a deep sigh. "Chief I need to ask you two favors. One, please don't allow my sisters to ID the body. I am on my way and will do it as soon as I am home. They don't need to go through that." Pause. "Thank you sir. Second," She breathed in deeply. "Sir you know the nature of my job and where I do it. There have been threats. Of course I can't tell now if they are related, but I would like to ask you as a personal favor, that until we can conclusively determine otherwise you consider my sisters at risk and perhaps add their homes to your normal patrols. Just let them and anyone else who may be paying attention know that the police have their eyes on my sisters." Pause. "Thank you sir. I understand it is out of protocol and my family deeply appreciates it." Pause. Flack knew of no such threats to Monroe's family. At first he was suspicious of what Monroe was up to, and why these lies. But then he put himself in her shoes, and thought he would likely go to similar measures if he were hundreds of miles away from his loved ones whom he feared might be in danger. "That is my next call, I don't know yet. But I will leave a message with dispatch as soon as my flights are booked." Pause. "Thank you again sir." And she took the phone away from her ear and punched the screen. She took another deep breath. Flack didn't say anything, he said she could do what he needed to do, and in his mind, part of that bargain was not interrogating her.

"Flack, I have to book flights, is it OK if I put the phone on speaker? I will need to write things down."

Again the courtesy. "Of course Monroe."

She dialed a number. She was smooth about it really, she identified herself to the travel agent as a NYC Detective and that she needed to fly to Bozeman Montana as soon as possible as there was a death in the family. The agent found her a flight, with plenty of seats, not a lot of traffic to Bozeman. She quoted her an outrageous fare, Lindsay inhaled deeply, but the agent continued that given her service to the city she got a certain discount and then subtracted that from a bereavement fare and it came out to just a few hundred dollars. Flack heard it all. He knew she was staying there only three days, her flight numbers, and seat assignments. She reserved her flights and a car, no, no hotel. Thanks.

As she promised she called dispatch back. She seemed to be considering something. She flipped her phone over and over in her hand.

"Do you have siblings Flack?" She turned to him.

"I do. One older sister. She's on the force. Detective in the one three in Queens, where her husband and his family live" He gave her a quick glance to meet her eyes in answering the question.

"I have two. One older, one younger." She seemed to slump slightly forward. "Both can be trying." She quickly raised her eyebrows.

Flack gave her a small grin. "I hear you."

"I'm working up the strength…here goes."

She called up a number from her phone speed dial and held the phone to her ear.

"Hi its me." Long pause. "Holly, I'll be home tomorrow afternoon." Long pause. "Have you made any arrangements?" Long pause. "No of course, I totally understand. Of course I can take care of it." Long pause "No, no Holly. Leave that to me. I can do that too." Long pause. "Holly, I know you need to cry, and I'm sorry to cut you off but I need to call Kit too." Her tone was soft but Flack could tell she was losing patience. She had lost her father too. Long pause. "Holly, I will see you tomorrow. Is Tyler there? May I speak to him." Her whole demeanor changed. "Hi Ty-bo, its Auntie Lindsay." Short Pause, Lindsay's breath caught as she suppressed a sob "I know Papa went up in the sky. He'll be able to watch over all of us from there. How do you feel about that little man, are you OK?" Pause. "Yes honey Mommy's sad, but you are Papa's Grandboy, and he would want you to be OK too. So if Mommy's sad and its hard for you, you go to your room and think about a happy time with Papa. Fishing, or with the horses. Or that time he taught you to rope. You remember how much Papa wanted you to smile." Pause and Lindsay seemed to giggle. "Yeah, he told me about the time he fell in that mud. You think of Papa like that, laughing and covered in mud. OK sweetie?" Pause. "Listen Ty, Auntie's going a plane and I will see you soon. Save a big big hug for me." Pause. "Oh, no honey, I don't need to talk to Mommy again. Good night my angel. Love you." And she tapped the screen again. "One down." she whispered under her breath.

"My nephew's five." She said to Flack. "Are you an Uncle?"

"I am, two nieces." He said smiling to himself with pride in the little girls he adored.

"Do you get to see them much?" She asked, slightly envious figuring that answer was yes.

"Couple times a month. You know how it goes, time with the nieces also means time with their parents, which I can only take in small doses."

Lindsay laughed. She smiled. She liked Flack. He was a decent man, he was easy to talk to. Not like Messer where everything was a challenge, a joke, usually at her expense. She always had to be on her toes with Messer, with Flack should could just be.

"I knew what to expect with the last call. My older sister, she is a wreck, which is predictable. She doesn't have terrific coping skills. The next, my younger sister. She could be drunk, angry, this could all be my fault, she could be a wreck too..." she trailed off.

"I'm sorry Monroe. None of those sound like anything you need right now. Can you just wait for her to call you?"

"No, I want to check on her. I want to know where she is and that she's safe, and I want to make sure she knows I will take care of things….I just…" She laughed a little, "maybe I will get voicemail." She took a deep breath and dialed.

"Kit, it's Lindsay. How are you doing?" Long pause, Flack could hear a raised voice through the phone. When he stopped at a red light, Lindsay held up two fingers and mouthed to him "Drunk, AND my fault." He smiled.

"I know Kit." Long Pause. "Kit I had no way of being able to tell that." Long pause. "Kit, Kit. Where exactly are you?" Pause. "Is Paulie there?" Pause, more yelling on the other end. "Ok I know Kit. But can I talk to Paulie?" Yelling on the other end, then "Paulie, Its Lindsay." Pause. "Thank you Paulie. Is she as bad as she sounds?" Pause. "I know you would anyway, but would you mind just seeing that she stays out of trouble and gets home safe." Pause and Lindsay furrowed her brow. "Yeah, I thought of it too. I squared it with Michaelson, Bernie and Cecile are going to add their addresses to their routes. But it wouldn't make me sleep any worse to know you were there with her." Pause. "I know." She said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow." Pause. "No, not yet. I'm doing that next and will let you know." She put the phone down.

"That wasn't as bad as it could have been." She raised her eyebrows and looked at Flack. The truth was, being in this mode, taking care of everyone and everything was what she needed or she might be just like Holly.

They approached her building. He found a spot parked, and got out to open her door, but she already was half out when he got there, so he just took her hand and finished helping her out, as a doorman at a five star hotel would do.

"Lindsay." Flack retained her hand. "Is there anything I can do to help you? Calls I can make too? I didn't meant to listen, but this sounds like it all on your shoulders."

She gave him a tight-lipped smile and seemed to relax a bit. "Flack. So much of me wants to say no. Its not my nature to impose on someone like that. But right now, the thought of going upstairs by myself and working through the rest of these details, actually makes me a little queasy." She paused. She took her hand back and wrung it with the other. She just liked having _him_ around. "If you really don't mind, and it wouldn't be keeping you from something else. It would somehow be easier even if you just sat upstairs with me while I make the calls."

He smiled "No problem. I got no where to be" He puts his arm around her shoulder and turned her to the building as if also physically offering his support.

Her apartment wasn't what he expected. It wasn't a warm and country haven. It was Earth-toned and calm. It wasn't quite stark, but it was impersonal. You could tell she wasn't attached to items. There was no bric-a-brac, no knick-knacks. No ceramic cats or dolls, souvenirs from trips. He scanned the walls and ledges looking for pictures to put faces to Holly, Tyler and Kit. He found none and that surprised him, intrigued him really. So he looked around even more intently. First she called the coroner to get details on the autopsy, she sat at her table and took detailed notes on what he said. She found out when she could identify and have the body released. Then she called the funeral home. She was subtle and smooth. If he didn't know she already knew when she was leaving town, you wouldn't have been able to tell she was getting in and out as soon as possible.

Flack noticed another void in the apartment. When she seemed to be in a break between calls, he asked "You don't have a TV Monroe?" He was sitting on her couch, thumbing through one of the many forensics textbooks she owned, his throbbing right leg elevated on her coffee table.

She laughed, "No. I just didn't bring one with me from Montana. And then when I got here, well, you walked up those three stories yourself, can you imagine me lugging a TV up them?" She smiled at him. "Do you want a drink, or something. I'm sorry, I'm a terrible hostess."

He stood up and walked to where she was. "No. No. It seems like you're close to being wrapped up. And I should be going." What he didn't say was that he had already missed a couple of dosages of pain meds, and one of the antibiotics. "But Monroe," he took a pen and wrote his mobile and home phone numbers in her notebook. "Please call me if there's anything I can do. Or if you need a friend to listen. Or if your sisters drive you crazy and you want me to look up the extradition rules on Montana to New York for assault." She laughed, he put his hands on both her elbows and bent at the knees so his eyes were level with hers. He smiled "I mean it, for anything, call me."

He pulled her into another embrace. This time she didn't feel out of place in his arms. He felt like strength and she needed strength now. She made no move to leave his embrace and he didn't pull back for several minutes. He kissed the top of her head. "Good night Monroe."

When he let her go, she let one of her hands catch one of his. And they walked to her apartment door like that, holding hands. Flack felt his blood run warmer with her touch, but he tried to ignore it. Lindsay felt the panic subside with his touch, but she wouldn't admit it.

She furrowed her brow, "Flack, thank you. Thank you for everything tonight. I know you have your own things happening right now. But thank you for being my friend. Especially tonight."

He squeezed her hand and looked at her intently, "Its my pleasure."

He went home to catch up on his meds. She packed and fixated on the images in the files. He got a few hours of sleep, sleep haunted with images of Monroe, hurt, sad, alone. She got none.

In the morning., Lindsay dragged her bags and herself through the airport. When she got to her gate, sitting there, feet on his luggage, half dosing in the airport chair was Flack.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three – Sleep Well

His eyes were closed. His head leaning on his hand at the gate at LaGuardia. She stopped and appraised him, as if for the first time. He was a very good looking man. He was tall and trim and muscular. Dark and yet with pale blue eyes. She wondered to herself why she knew that, his eyes were closed. If you asked her what color Mac or Stella's eyes were she would have to give it some thought. But it seemed to be ingrained in her mind that Flack had soft blue eyes.

She sat in the open seat next to him and softly said, "Flack." He opened his eyes and

raised his eye brow.

"Monroe, good morning." He didn't move except to sit up only slightly. He was clearly tired.

"What are you doing here?" her tones were soft. They didn't indicate that she was mad or unhappy that he was there.

He cleared his throat. "I thought it might be a good idea to get out of the city, see some big sky." He eyed her playfully. She smiled in return, but she was too tired for banter. He continued, "you can tell me to go home if you want to. Or if its an intrusion that's not my intent. But, I thought you could use a friend." He cocked his head to the side slightly, "Maybe a friend who was a cop. Maybe just a friend from New York who knows Lindsay Monroe, NYPD CSI as more than just a Montana girl." Then he flashed her a grin, "Oh, and, I have weeks left on leave, and its either a trip to Montana or I try to put an addition on my apartment." She smiled at his gentle humor.

"Flack, its not an intrusion. But this is a huge burden. I can't ask you to do something like this."

"Look Lindsay we would all like to go. Mac, Stella, Danny, Hawkes. But they got keep running the samples or whatever you guys do. I am the only one able to go, and I'm glad to do it. Besides you didn't ask me, I want to."

She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. She kept accepting kindness from this man and she didn't know why. But she knew that she liked having _him_ around. She knew that it didn't feel tense to talk to him. She knew that weight of this trip to Montana seemed to lift ever so slightly with the thought of Flack being there with her.

She opened her eyes, and turned her head to him "You're here first thing in the morning, you're packed, you're through security so you have a boarding pass. I assume that means you are sure its not a burden."

"Its not a burden," He said sitting back in his chair too. "trying to explain a new deck on my 7th floor apartment, that would be a burden." She smiled.

"Danny called me last night, twice. Once while I was on the phone in the car, once when I was on the phone later in the night. But I didn't call him back, I just don't have it in me to say it all out loud right now." She rubbed her temples.

Flack raised one eyebrow. Once while they were in the car, that meant while he was on his date with Maka. "I'll call him later, catch him up, don't worry about it."

On the flight she had the window, Flack the aisle and the middle seat was open. Just after take off he noticed her head bobbing forward in sleep. He moved to sit next to her, and stretch his own sore leg with the extra room. He eased her head onto his shoulder. She slept the whole flight, and he most of it.

When they landed they had to wait to collect their baggage. Given that they were both transporting their weapons, they couldn't be brought in carry-on. Lindsay was glad to know Flack packed his gun too. They got Lindsay's' rental, and Flack asked her if she wanted him to drive so she could rest. She said no, she knew the way. Little of the two-hour drive was silent. But Flack let Lindsay drive the conversation as well. He didn't push things when she seemed tense about discussing them. But occasionally he asked a question.

"Sorry if this is crossing a line, but is your Mom out of the picture?"

"Yeah. She's dead. My Dad raised us alone for the last twenty years."

"Three daughters, alone. Good man." Commented Flack sincerely impressed.

"Exceptionally good." She then seemed lost in her own thought and he regretted that the conversation had drifted there at all. Lindsay saw similarities between Flack and her Dad. She was saddened to think Flack could never meet him, they would have liked each other.

Flack decided this was her turf, her family, her time, he would follow her lead and unless she told him she needed space he would be next to her for the next three days.

As they approached the Centerville Police Station she said "Its not like New York. There are no dedicated CSIs. The regular officers process the scene. Unless it's a big one, or they can tell they're out of their depth. Then they call in the state for help."

Flack nodded. "Did you ever work here?"

"No. I got my degree in Bozeman and worked there. I was the state for a while. But nothing ever happened that called me here."

When she parked, Lindsay popped the trunk. She went around back, opened her luggage and attached her badge and revolver to her belt. Flack did the same. He was wearing jeans and polo shirt. He seemed uncomfortable wearing the shield and the piece without the suit, but he did it for Lindsay. Lindsay also grabbed her CSI kit and brought it with her.

Naturally she knew everyone. A few she had gone to high school with. The chief came out to meet her. He personally took her to the morgue. She was about to become a player in a scene she had seen too many times before. A loved one IDing a body.

The ME came out to meet her too.

"Lindsay Monroe," he said. He was a round, balding warm man. He hugged her. His arms encircling her, hers went up behind him. It warmed Flack to see. The pair shared affection and it was good to see Lindsay receiving some comfort.

"Tuff, I'm so glad to see you." It was the first time since speaking to her nephew that Flack had heard a break in her voice as if she were holding back tears. She trusted this man hugging her.

The body wasn't in a drawer, it was laid out on a table covered by a sheet as it would be when Hammerbach reviewed a vic with her. The ME released her and held her by the shoulders.

"Lindsay, do you want me to?"

"I want you to run it Tuff. Go through it all with me."

"Ok" he said softly pulling on gloves.

Flack unsure of his place, stood just behind her. He was keen to learn what he could of the case as well. If he heard it first-hand, she wouldn't need to repeat it.

The ME pulled the sheet down to just under the chin. Lindsay took one slow deep breath in. She didn't gasp or cry.

"Single gun shot wound to the head." Flack wondered to himself if they get so few around here that the don't use the 'GSW' shorthand they do back at home or if the ME was just trying to be thorough and thoughtful for Lindsay. "A nine millimeter. Death was instantaneous. It was quick Lindsay. He felt no pain."

A portion of the vic's forehead was missing. Blood and tissue were exposed. Flack himself had seen enough bodies in the morgue to know that this ME had taken special care with this body to minimize what the shock would be when he pulled back the sheet. There was a pause, a silence. Lindsay wore no gloves, and cupped one hand on her father's cheek. She made no eye contact with anyone but her dead father's closed eyes. One single tear ran down her cheek. She looked to Tuff.

"And?"

"From the angle it would be inconclusive if it was self-inflicted."

She half-nodded and returned to her focus to the body.

"What else? Any signs of struggle?"

The ME pulled the sheet down to the man's waist. Flack was impressed, her Dad was fit and young looking. Lindsay took a half step backwards at the sight of the autopsy incisions on her father. Flack was close enough behind her that she knocked into him. He rested both hands on her shoulders to steady her. When she took the half step forward again, he left his left hand on the small of her back.

"Your Father was a rugged Montana man Lindsay," Tuff continued. "He has rope burns across one forearm which appear to be a few days old."

She smiled. "He was teaching Tyler to rope."

"Ok that might explain this also." The ME half turned the body to expose one shoulder blade and there were five tiny half-circle bruises.

Lindsay ran her hand over them. "The calf bolted on Ty. It scared him. My Dad must have picked him up, and he clung to Papa for safety."

"Other than that Lindsay, there's nothing I can see out of the ordinary."

"No defensive wounds?"

"No."

"Trace under the nails."

"Normally in this case I wouldn't have collected it. But I did for you. Its there." He gestured to a set of evidence envelopes on the table.

"Tuff what time did he die?"

"Approximately 10:45am." Lindsay's lips went tight, she seemed to swallow hard.

"Who found him?" She turned to the Chief would have been standing by the door.

"Joe Macineryne. He went in for some supplies your Dad had ordered for him. When he wasn't in the front, Joe went around back to the office and saw him."

"Nothing else Tuff?"

"No Lindsay. I've been thorough, I've checked and double checked for you. There's nothing else honey."

Tuff reached for something from the table behind him and handed it to Lindsay.. "I saved this for you. There's no prints or trace on it. Its not evidence. You can take it."

"Thank you." She said in almost a whisper. She opened the small plastic bag and removed a gold wedding band. She held it up to the light. From his view, Flack could see she was checking an inscription although he himself couldn't make out what it said. Another single tear escaped from Lindsay. Her fist formed around the ring.

"Lindsay, he wasn't wearing it. It had apparently been in his left palm."

Her eyes narrowed and she looked to her father. She held her closed fist to her heart and closed her eyes. When she leaned forward Flack's hand fell from her back where he had forgotten it was. She planted one soft kiss on her father's cheek. Her cheek rested against the cold face when she whispered into his ear "I love you Daddy. Sleep well. I'm on watch now." She thought she was quiet enough for it to only be a message between her father and herself, but Flack heard every word.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four – What's a Crime Scene or Two Between Friends

Lindsay had collected the envelopes Tuff had prepared for her, put them in her kit and hugged him on the way out.

She, Flack and the Chief walked to her car. "Chief I want to go to the store."

"I figured you would. The tape's still up but the scene its processed and wrapped as far as we're concerned."

"Did the state clear it?" She asked the Chief squinting in the sun.

"We didn't call them in Lindsay. Didn't think you'd want us too." She, and even Flack could tell by his tone that he thought it was a suicide and that shame was something he was trying to protect Lindsay from. "As far as we're concerned, unless you tell us otherwise, the scene's processed."

She nodded.

"OK thanks." She shifted her weight on her feet, and Flack thought he had never seen her look as tough. "We're going over there now, do you want us to take one of yours with us?"

"Not unless you need them."

She stood in front of Flack and didn't look back at him. "No, we're fine on our own. Thanks. But I can take whatever I want?"

"Yes. But Lindsay, chain of evidence you know. Whatever you may find will not hold up in court."

"I understand." She took a step forward to shake the Chief's hand. Flack did the same, and they left.

When they parked the car again, Flack said. "So this is Main Street USA?"

She smiled. "It is. We have it all." She pointed at various store fronts. "A pharmacy, a bank, even a pizza shop, and," she turned to the building there were parked in front of, "A hardware store."

The sign read "Monroe's Hardware and Tack Shop." They got out of the car. Again Lindsay took her kit from the trunk.

Flack looked up. "Are tacks a specialty item around here that you have to call them out special from nails or any other hardware?"

She smirked. "No, not that kind of tack. Like horse tack."

"Ah," he said raising his eyebrows. For an instant her smiled deepened as she knew he still didn't know what she meant.

As they approached the building, Lindsay knelt in front of the door. There was one small piece of yellow tape across the door jam reading "Crime scene." She shook her head and reached inside her kit.

"They didn't even print this." She began processing the door knob. Flack wasn't sure how much of what she was doing or was about to do was necessary. But again he put himself in her shoes. If she had the skills to work this scene, she should, even if all it did was help her process that a gun had been fired and her father was dead. He would let her do what she needed to do. When she was satisfied with the door knob. She stood up, took a key from her pocket, used it to cut the tape, and unlocked the door. Flack carried her kit. She walked slowly through the front of the store. Still wearing gloves, she approached the cash register. It was closed and when she opened it, it was still fully stocked with bills and coins. She didn't seem surprised. Flack remained behind her and examined the door and knob also.

As she progressed through the store he knew she was working her way to where her father had died. He moved to be right behind her, still carrying her kit. She opened a door to a back room . There were shelves with inventory. Nothing appeared disturbed. There was an office off to the right, the door was open but the lights were off, Lindsay stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, reached in and turned on the lights and froze for an instant. Then her body wretched, and wretched again. She ran for a back door. Flack dropped her kit by the office and followed her path outside to find her vomiting into a trash can. It was violent, it was painful. She sank to her knees and began sobbing. Flack froze for an instant, her pain was so raw, so desperate.

He went to her. He knelt and grabbed her by the shoulders. At first he just let her cry. She needed to. But crouching that way was tough on his knee, his leg, his hip. So slowly he eased her to standing, but guided her so her head was tucked under his chin and her face rested in his shoulder. He held her as her body heaved against him. He absorbed it. He didn't stroke her or "shhh" her. He just stood there holding her. He would do it as long as she needed. She shifted in his arms. Her face towards his neck. "The blood, the spatter….they're his." His was hand on the back of her head, cradling her.

"I know, " He said to her softly, his eyes closed, inhaling her. Her smell, her tears, her pain.

"My Daddy's." She clutched at him.

"I know," he stood firm. Holding her. Flack expected what was next in the grief he had seen on crime scenes. The "why, why my Daddy?" But that verse never came and she was slowly coming to herself. He was beginning to suspect she knew the "why."

She reached one hand around to wipe the tears from her own face. But then immediately slid it back to where it had been on Flack's shoulder blade. He kissed the top of her head, and squeezed her to him slightly. They remained like that until he could no longer feel her breath catching in sobs. He eased her face away from him, wiped her tear-streaked face and kissed her cheek warmly.

"Monroe, you don't have to do this. They said its been processed. Its done."

She shook her head, closed her eyes, and turned back into his chest. He held her again. Her breathing still heavy from crying, his arms strong and firm encircling her. After a while, she pulled away.

"I'm sorry Flack." She was wiping her face. But his hands still remained on her hips.

"Its OK Monroe. Its why I came." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "But Monroe. I can close it up, you don't have to go in there again." Her eyes closed she held his hands while she took a few deep breaths. She opened her eyes and met his.

"I have to."

He only nodded at her. She stood for a few seconds longer, still holding his hands, as if the longer she touched him the longer she could draw strength from him. Eventually she dropped one of his hands and turned to go back into the building. He dropped her second hand and gently put his instead on the small of her back.

They reentered the building and Lindsay spent a couple of hours collecting samples, examining the scene, accessing her Father's computer files. She was intent so she didn't notice when Flack checked his watch, reached into his pocket and took some pills. He looked around himself, and while no CSI, it appeared to him that this was no suicide. In fact from his experience, in the scenes he had seen, it looked like a professional hit. Neither of them talked about it.

He had asked about places to stay at the police station while Lindsay was receiving condolences from all the Centerville force and staff. But as dusk began to fall they pulled into a dirt road and up to a large but beautifully maintained house on what seemed to Flack to be 1,000 acres of land. It was picture perfect, with dormers, flower boxes, a wrap-around porch and an American flag flying.

She turned off the engine, sat back in the driver seat and looked to him. "Flack," she began softly.

"Yeah," he said, turning to her, eyebrows raised.

"You've been so great. You know when to just not ask. But," she hesitated only slightly. Her eyes were looking ahead, at the house, not meeting his eyes. "I need to process this house, my Dad's house."

He nodded. No one had indicated it was a crime scene or even under investigation. She knew it would appear odd. She had considered dropping him at the hotel in town while she did it, or finding an errand to occupy him. But she couldn't imagine herself doing it without the comfort of knowing he was there too.

He ran his fingers through his hair. Was she in danger, or was she losing her grip, just processing as she went. Or was she just in pain, and processing that as she went. He didn't know, and whichever the answer may be, being there while she fell apart was why he came.

"OK Monroe, let's do it." They left the car and he went around to open the trunk. Before he pulled out her kit he opened it, having watched her enough times, he knew just where her flashlights were, he took the larger for himself, and handed her the smaller. Out of habit, or instinct he drew his gun.

"Open the door and I'll clear it." She didn't know if he was humoring her, but she was in no position to oppose the suggestion.

After she unlocked the door, he swept each room quickly. Each closet, and shower as he would if he were checking that there were no lurking suspects in crime scene at home before clearing it as safe for the CSIs to enter. He noticed that the first floor rooms were all like Lindsay's in New York, devoid of personal artifacts. The second floor bedrooms were different. Each reflected a personality, a history and a human. There were awards and ribbons, posters and pom-poms, but still no photos. He could tell which was Lindsay's, and made guesses as to which had been Kit's and Holly's. There was also one guest room next to Lindsay's and her Dad's room. There was no one in the house.

When Flack came back downstairs Lindsay was just standing up. She had printed the front door. In the back of his mind Flack wondered if she was going to stay up all night printing the whole house.

He didn't say anything to her, but when he holstered his gun she knew it was safe. She had taken all of their bags from the car and they stood behind her on the porch. She hadn't spoken to him about it, but assumed he would stay with her there in the house. She took her bags in and he did the same. She went upstairs. Flack had turned on all of the lights as part of the process. And she shut them off again as they went. She stopped at the guest room.

"Here's your room." She pointed to the one he knew was hers "That's one's mine." She rattled off the others pointing to different rooms. "My Dad's, Kit's, Holly's." He had guessed them all correctly.

"Flack, I don't know if you think I'm crazy. But I just want to print the back door and check a couple of things in my father's office and then I'm done with all that."

He had leaned in and put his bags in the guest room. He gave her a half grin. "Done collecting, then you'll start processing."

In spite of herself she grinned back. He knew her. "No, no. I can't really process too much outside of the lab." She tossed her bags in her room. "Please make yourself at home. The bathroom's there, linen closet there if you want to take a shower. You can rest, or anything you want. There is actually a TV here." She grinned again.

"Shower sounds great. I will be like a new man in 20 minutes, and meet you downstairs."

"OK let me know if you need anything," she said walking away from him. She smiled to herself, at his phrase 'a new man'. She was becoming very fond of the man himself and didn't want him to change one bit.

He showered. Took another set of pills. And hung up his suit for the services. He called Messer as he had said he would. He was glad to have gotten his voicemail so he didn't have to explain how he knew everything he did. He told Messer about Lindsay's dad, and that she was in Montana to return in a few days. He didn't mention he was with her. By the time Flack had made it downstairs she was true to her word, done collecting and was working on cooking a meal. It smelled of steaks and spices. For a moment Flack felt eery, they hadn't been shopping. They would be eating food purchased by a man who was now dead. But he figured if Lindsay's Dad was the man he thought he was, he would have wanted his daughter to be nourished.

His hair was wet, and Lindsay thought he was right, he did look refreshed. He wore a plain white tee shirt and jeans with bare feet.

"Need help?" He asked entering the kitchen.

"No I'm almost done. Sorry I should have stopped to ask you if you were hungry before now."

He smiled. "Don't worry about it." Although he was starving. He took a seat at one of the island stools and watched her cook. "Monroe, I'm not trying to be a Mensh, but did you connect with your sisters since you've been in town?"

"Yeah I called them while you were upstairs. I don't have it in me to see them tonight. They're coming here at 8 tomorrow morning."

She had set out two place setting including an open bottle of wine, her half-full glass she had with her, his glass empty next to his plate.

"I needed a drink. But I didn't know if you were able to have alcohol after the accident so I didn't pour you, and forgive me if you can't and now I drank in front of you." Her brow wrinkled. The courtesy again.

"One's fine." He said pouring himself one. Truth was he wasn't supposed to mix the pills and drinks. But he figured he could nurse one.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Through and through

She served him steak, with rice and asparagus at the kitchen island. They didn't sit at the kitchen table. Flack figured she didn't want to look at her father's empty seat. Their conversation was light and friendly. He asked her nothing about the things he found odd about the day, the scene, or the house he was now sitting in.

After dinner she asked him "Are you exhausted or can I show you something neat?"

" 'Neat' huh?" he asked grinning. "I'm game."

She stood up and took her wine glass with her. She motioned for him to follow her outside. They went out to the porch and she took a seat in one of the wooden bench swings, setting her wine glass on the ground beside her. He sat next to her.

"Look up," She said. There were more stars than a NYC boy even knew existed.

"Wow, that is neat," he said. He was teasing her, but only a little. It truly was an awesome sight.

"That's one thing I miss about home." She said, her feet had gently started the swing swaying, as she continued to look skyward. She had a childlike smile on her face. Flack looked away from the stars and realized how back in NY she seemed to smile so easily, and here, with all this, it was good to see. She looked at him and caught his gaze. She raised her eyebrows slightly and smiled, this time, not for the stars, but for him.

"Flack," Her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you for everything. I know its not enough just to say it but, I'm so glad you are here." They held each others eyes.

"Don't mention it Monroe. I'm glad I'm here too." He said, his tone matching hers.

The stars, the wine, the emotion, the grief, the smell of him, the strength of him, she couldn't take it. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Her arms went slowly around him. Before he knew it his arms were holding her tightly against him. But he couldn't do this, not now, he couldn't and he knew it. He kissed her back, he did it tenderly, but not passionately. He had to get out if it, but didn't want to add the sting of a rejection to her pain. One of her hands was now in his hair and she opened her mouth, he didn't realize it but he opened his too, her tongue in his mouth, she began to kiss him more urgently. He felt something inside of him respond. She could get to him. "Now," he thought, "I have to stop this now, before I can't think anymore." He wound down their kiss sweetly, and pulled his lips from hers. He pulled her in, her face resting against his chest so he wouldn't have to meet her eyes.

"Monroe," he started softly. "I know you're tough, and you're holding it together amazingly well. I'm sure most of these people, you are fooling. But I know you're in a million pieces. I know you feel hollow and scared. I know there's a hole you can't describe, and you fear it will never heal. But I can't be this guy who takes advantage of that." He thought of Messer and how he wanted to protect her from that very thing. He held her head to his chest. Her eyes were closed, she listened, taking comfort in even the rise and fall of his breath. He went on, "know that I am here for you. I am not leaving until you leave, and when we go home, I will continue to be there for you. If you want to kiss me then, that's another story. But here, when you're in so much pain, I can't let you just because you feel so good to me." He thought he did a good job, she must know that he finds her incredibly attractive, that under other circumstances, well... But here, now, he couldn't go any further.

"I'm sorry I kissed you Flack." She said, her voice not defeated but quietly ashamed. She didn't mean to allow herself to be attracted to him, to grow attached to him, it just happened and she was sorry she couldn't be stronger.

"Lord, don't be sorry about it. I'm not. It was amazing. You are amazing. But lets just not let things get out of hand here tonight." He started the porch swing rocking again with his feet. "Let's sit here for a while, and when you're ready, we can say goodnight. But I will be in the room next door and I will be there for you first thing in the morning."

She shifted in his arms so they were both facing out to the stars again. It was a while before he sensed she was asleep. He tried to stay as long as he could, but he was so stiff, in pain. He shifted slightly and she stirred.

"Mmm. Sorry Flack. Lets go upstairs." She held one of his hands as she stood up.

They went upstairs and he kissed the top of her head when she went into her room. Alone in the guest room, Flack had to let his sore wounds breathe. He wore basketball shorts and no shirt as he rubbed the prescribed ointment on the healing burns on his chest. He had a small table lamp for light. He heard quiet shuffling in the hall and a weak knock on his door, and before he had time to pull a shirt on, Monroe, in her pajamas was in his room. She wore a cotton tank top with eyelet around the top and matching shorts. She took a few steps and stopped when she saw him.

"Flack, I'm so sorry. I've been selfish."

She walked up to him and knelt in front of where he sat on the bed. Her fingers lightly brushed the burn wounds on his right side. Flack was frozen, she wasn't meant to know he was broken.

"It looks to be healing well…but it must hurt still. I'm so sorry I haven't been asking about you." She spoke softly and looked into his eyes.

"Ah, Monroe. I didn't mean for you to see this. No woman wants to see disfigurement."

She rose slightly on her knees, a gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry. I know I'm not supposed to kiss you. But …." When she pulled away and faced him, she read the shame and resentment in his eyes.

She blinked slowly and responded, "its not out of pity. Its out of knowing." She rose to her feet and stood directly in front of where he sat on the bed. Her body positioned between his knees. She lifted the edge of her top and pushed down the rim of her shorts over her right hip exposing at his eye-level, a large scar.

"It's a through and through," she said. "The back's not as bad." She moved her hands so her clothes fell back where they were supposed to. He met her eyes.

"Flack, can I just sleep here, with you tonight? I won't even touch you, but I just don't think I can sleep in there…." It was more than she had planned, but she hadn't planned on seeing him so vulnerable either.

"Of course." He said. He motioned that she should sleep on the left side of the bed, he didn't say why, but the left side of him sustained less damage. She went around and slid under the covers. He straightened up a few things, set the alarm, turned out the light and went to bed too. Under the covers she reached for his hand. She held it with both of hers and fell asleep.

At three AM, Flack's eyes bolted open. His body was cool with sweat. It must have been a nightmare, but he couldn't remember it. He laid on his back, trying to steady his shallow breathing. He looked to his left, and Monroe was sleeping on her side facing him. She still held his hand with one of hers, her other hand was encircling his upper arm, holding it to her, so her body rested against the length of his arm. In the moonlight from the window he thought she looked peaceful, innocent. She was beautiful. He had known that before. But he had never allowed himself to think of Monroe as anything more than a coworker. He looked over her shoulder out the window. Perhaps part of him thought girls like Monroe deserved something more than a born-and-bred NYC cop. But now, in bed with him, bathed in moonlight he couldn't help but think Monroe was the kind of girl you build a life with. Some guy would be lucky enough to do that. Not him. He shouldn't have come at all. But now, how could he leave her? How could he not be there for her? He would be her friend. But he couldn't let himself be in love with her, not now.

He looked back to her. The sheets had drifted and were draped over her hip. He followed the shadow and light from her face down her neck, the curve of her breasts. Where her tank top fell away from her body he could see that she had put the wedding band the ME had given her on a long chain so it would hang by her heart. Where her hand held his to her body, her top had ridden up slightly and he felt her skin against the back of his hand. Her midriff was tight and trim, but he could feel the uneven flesh of the wound she had shown him. How old was that wound? It wasn't from her time in New York. It could have been from her time in Bozeman. It could have been a High School marksmanship accident. Monroe was the kind of girl to know about mashing avocados and mixing it to rub on wounds, or some such thing. Hell, that scar could have been a day old for all he knew. Messer would have been able to tell on sight. He would know how long ago she was shot, and with what type and caliber of weapon. It wasn't the first time that day he felt lesser to Danny. When Monroe was processing her own house he thought, Messer would know how to help her, so she doesn't have to do this by herself.

No, he thought. She was better off without Messer right now, better off with him. But, he couldn't be in love with her, not now.

When he woke in the morning she was already out of bed. She had shut off the alarm before it sounded so he could sleep. She had arranged the wake and funeral on the same day, today. Her family was all meeting there early. He figured he should check on her quickly, then get dressed in his suit and wait. He went downstairs in the same tee shirt and jeans he wore the night before. He found her in the kitchen in a tank top and shorts. He could tell she had done whatever it is Montana girls do for exercise with no gym at-hand. Maybe she had run, maybe she heaved hay bales, he had no idea. But he could see her face was slightly flushed and she glistened with perspiration. Every muscle seemed taught, as if on the verge of straining. He could also see that she had about 15 pots and pans going.

"Hi." She said glancing at the wall clock. 6:30. "Hungry?"

"Sure." He said walking into the kitchen and leaning against a the counter trying to stay out of her way. She seemed determined. "Can I help you?" He was rubbing his eyes.

"No thanks." She said walking up to him. She lightly ran her hand down the left side of his torso. "Sit. Coffee?"

"Mm-mm." He replied turning and walking to the stool where he had eaten dinner. She knew that was an affirmative, and she knew he took it black. She poured him a cup and set it in front of him.

"After the service, some people will be coming back here. So I thought I should have food ready."

He was puzzled and his face reflected it, but she was too busy to take notice. How was she thinking of all this. Accomplishing it? He couldn't see everything she was working on, but he could see a roast in the oven, and what looked like scallop potatoes. Don't those things take hours to prepare he thought? His mind was still cloudy with sleep. She put a plate with eggs, bacon, and cantaloupe in front of him. Again he thought, this must have been a cantaloupe her father bought to eat himself, but what was Flack going to do? Point that out? Refuse it? He ate. She didn't. She didn't sit. When he was done he went to the sink and washed his plate and whatever pots had already served their purpose and were piled up. He towel-dried them and not knowing where they all went, he put them at least out of the way. Then he turned to her.

"Monroe, there must be something I can do here." He really just wanted her to stop, and calm down at little. She was pretty obviously tense.

"No I'm almost done. Then things just need to be heated up later." She glanced at the clock again. 6:50. "I'm going to shower and get dressed soon."

"Ok. If you're sure there's nothing I can do. I'll do that myself." She just turned and nodded.

He heard the shower running when he left the guest room in his suit. He had made the bed and tidied the room so it was as when he found it. He went downstairs and found the kitchen immaculate except for numerous foiled covered dishes and casseroles. He looked at the clock. 7:20. No one was due until 8. But the front door opened. He had locked his gun in his luggage which he had placed in the very back of the closet upstairs. But he went into the front hallway and was taken aback at the woman who entered. She looked like Lindsay, but wore more make up, her chestnut hair had the same large waves but also ribbons of blonde and it fell to just below her breasts. Her clingy, sleeveless black dress draped in the front revealing ample cleavage. Her skirt hugged very curve until it ended just above her knee. It would have all been alluring if Flack didn't know it was funeral black. Lindsay had that girl-next-door beauty, this woman had that cover-of-the-magazine-you–hide-under-your-mattress beauty.

Her high heels clicked on the wooden floor as she approached him. "You must be the New York cop." She said looking in his eyes. His hands were on his hips, looking her over. He extended his right hand which she took.

"Yes. Don Flack. You must be Kit."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – No Match

Kit released his hand and walked so close to him as she passed into the kitchen that he could tell she and Lindsay wore the same perfume. That seemed unfair. She took the smell that reminded him of Lindsay's purity and sweetness, and wore it on this lusty body.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, added milk and sugar, the locations of both of which she knew, and she sat down at a chair at the end of the kitchen table. She crossed her legs, and slowly took a tug on her cup.

"Are you my sister's boyfriend?" she asked.

"No, just a friend," he said. And then he remember the kiss, the way she slept next to him, the times her held her hand, the times he held her, the way she made him feel. He felt he was betraying her. "A close friend," he amended.

"She doesn't usually have close friends." Kit said suspiciously. She raised one eyebrow as she put her cup on the table. "She's too serious to have much time for people."

To Flack, that didn't sound like Lindsay. She was always kind, almost to a fault in her job. She had seen her question witnesses, and victims. Even when actually on the job, she took the time with people.

"Huh, maybe she's changed," he said. He was thinking, maybe she just never had time for Kit.

"How long have you known her?" Kit asked leaning back in her chair, which perhaps she knew accentuated her curves.

"Since the first day she was on the job in New York."

"How much do you know about her?" Flack was still standing. He leaned one arm on the counter and pushed his jacket away as he put other hand on his hip. Was this woman seriously trying to interrogate him?

"Enough." He said.

"She doesn't like to talk about herself, she doesn't share much usually."

"No she usually doesn't." Flack replied. Amateur, he thought to himself. If Kit was offering a test, he thought he must be passing. She shifted in her chair.

"How is she?" She looked around the kitchen taking note of all the prepared foods. "Probably efficiently coping?"

"I think she will be glad to have her sisters near her." He thought Kit might laugh at that, but he figured it was a test of his own to see how this woman regarded her relationship with Lindsay. Currently Flack regarded Kit as something of a threat to Lindsay's psyche.

She didn't laugh, she looked down.

"Does she talk about us a lot in New York?"

"She talks about Montana a lot. But like you said she's not one for detail when it comes to herself." Flack didn't offer that the first time he even knew Monroe had sisters was the day he drove her home after she learned her father died.

"Does she like it there in New York? She says she does but is she really happy there?"

"I think so." Flack answered. The truth was, he didn't really know if she was happy there.

Lindsay walked in and saw Flack leaning on the counter and her sister facing him, skirt above the knee, legs crossed, shoulders back. It looked like the pair might have been more in place at a bar than at her kitchen table. Flack stood up straight and half turned to her when he realized she was there. He took her in. He was trying to remember if he had ever seen Monroe in a skirt before. She wore a simple black dress, with a modest dip at the neckline. She looked soft and beautiful. She was surprised Kit was early, and even more surprised to have caught Kit and Flack in what looked like an intimate conversation. Her expression was blank for an instant. She decided not to let it bother her. She brightened slightly and approached her little sister.

"Kit you're so early." Kit rose and they embraced. Lindsay held Kits hips as she leaned back and looked at her sister. Looking at them you wouldn't guess that Lindsay was more than two years older. The makeup, the forced coyness, the scheming behind Kit's eyes all made her appear the elder. Lindsay released her from the embrace, but gathered Kit's hair and gently slipped it behind her shoulders, the way an older sister would. "You look so beautiful," she whispered. Then she put a hand on her sisters cheek. "I miss you." Lindsay's' tone was sincere and her voice had a hint of quiver in it.

"Lindsay," Kit said softly. To Flack is seemed that Kit arrived with the intention of being a bad-ass and within just a moment of basking in the warmth of Lindsay's affection her hard edge melted, at least for the moment.

Kit fell into Lindsay's arms again, "He's gone Linds, what are we going to do?" She was weakly sobbing.

Flack turned to leave the kitchen giving them privacy. But before he was out of earshot he could hear Lindsay whisper back, "It'll be OK Kit. I'm on watch now. I'll take care of everything."

Before Flack could reach the front door, a woman and young boy were entering. The woman was just shorter than Lindsay, brown hair pulled up and piled on her head. Her face tear-stained. In one hand she held a handkerchief, in the other the boy's hand. The boy had the same warm brown hair as all the sisters, the same dark hazel eyes.

"Hello," he walked up to them. "I'm Don Flack, a friend of Lindsay's from New York. She and Kit are in the kitchen." He motioned with his head.

"I'm Holly, Lindsay's older sister. How kind of you to come."

When she didn't mention her son, Flack crouched to speak to him, "You must be Tyler. Your Auntie Lindsay talks about you a lot, she's very proud of you.." It was a lie, again Flack just learned of this boy existence, but what the hell, it wasn't hurting anyone. Flack held out his hand and the boy took it limply as Flack give it a gentle shake.

"I was just heading outside for a walk." Flack said as he straightened.

"Oh, could you take Tyler with you? I need to see my sisters for a few minutes."

Flack was taken off-guard and before he could respond, the mother dropped the boy's hand and walked into the kitchen. He turned to the boy.

"I don't really know my way around here. But I'm thinking you must know your way around pretty good. Anything cool outside?"

The boy raised his eyebrows, and mutely nodded. He turned and headed out the front door.

After a while Lindsay came out the front door while Tyler was showing Flack the finer points of tire swings. She scanned the outside until she spotted them.

"Tyler!" she shouted and ran towards them.

"Auntie!" the boy bolted in her direction. He flew into her arms, she embraced him and fell to her knees. As Flack walked towards them he could see the boy was crying and she was soothing him. Flack wondered if Tyler had held it all in until he knew he could be safe with Lindsay. They all seemed to lean on Lindsay for strength. After a while she stood and carried the boy to the house. But before they reached the front door another car pulled up.

"Uncle Paulie!" The boy pointed to the car. The man who emerged from the car looked like what most people pictured in their mind at the mentioned of the term "ranch-hand." His skin was tanned and his hair a light sunkissed-brown. He was a large, broad man, you could tell he had never seen the inside of a gym but was all muscle from hard work. But he had kindness in his eyes. Paulie walked over to Lindsay and barely kissed her on the cheek as the boy dove and hung around his neck.

"Tyler Monroe you're getting too big for this," he said. The boys head was already nuzzled in the mans neck.

"Paul Dwyer," Lindsay said, "this is Don Flack, he's a friend of mine from New York. Don, Paulie is a close friend of the family." Paulie jutted out what of his right arm wasn't supporting Tyler and shook Don's hand.

…

Flack drove Lindsay in the her rental car to the funeral home. Paul drove everyone else in his.

"Are Paul and Kit a thing?" Flack asked. Lindsay smiled.

"'Thing', that's a good word for it. They've been together on and off for years now. We all know he's just what she needs, but she's too stubborn to realize it."

"You grew up with him too though right?"

Lindsay laughed. "Yeah, we were in the same grade in school. I've known him since I was six. We actually sort of dated in High School. Kid stuff you know. We were a lot alike. He was easy to talk to. It didn't last when I went away to school." Flack restrained himself from asking the question on his mind – did you sleep with him? He wasn't sure why, but he felt jealousy somewhere deep in his stomach.

Lindsay continued, "Then he and Kit started spending a lot of time together. My Dad liked him so he had that going for him already. But she ended up with the wrong guys. Then Holly got pregnant and that seemed to snap Kit out of it. Paulie, he owns a bar in town, she lives in an apartment above it."

"So is Tyler's Dad of the picture?" Flack was trying to catch up on the history in Lindsay's life that he had missed.

"Yeah, Holly…Holly's kind of fragile. She worked at my Dad's hardware store from high school on." She looked at Flack's profile. She wasn't sure why, but it was diffulct to hold thing back from him. "Its like my Dad knew the outside world would chew her up so he did what he could to build her a safer world. But some delivery guy, came by the store a lot…anyway, yeah he's out of the picture. My Dad wasn't thrilled. He went a little ballistic, and Holly came to live with me in Bozeman. Then after Tyler was born, the three of us lived there together until just before I left. She and my Dad made peace and she moved back to a small house he had bought for them in town, and she went back to work at the store. It worked out for her because she could work around when Tyler was in school." Flack realized now why the time of death seemed an issue for Lindsay. Holly should have been at the store too.

The funeral was touching, it seemed the whole town showed up to offer condolences to the Monroe girls. A few made veiled comments about it being a suicide. At one Kit got heated, but Lindsay literally put herself between her sister and the neighbor and it diffused.

About as many came back to the Monroe house as well. Flack had been dreading that. He knew Lindsay would be busy talking to the fellow mourners, and she was the only one he knew there. But all of the Centerville police, and even most of the fireman were interested in hearing about his job and what it was like to be a NY cop. They wanted to know if he had been shot at, if he fired his weapon in the line of duty, on and on, the type of questions Flack was used to answering to kids back home. He didn't talk about the explosion.

Paulie approached him after a while.

"It was nice of you to come here for Lindsay." He said to Flack.

"It's no big deal."

"She doesn't usually get close to people quickly, so we're all surprised she brought you."

Flack didn't respond. Lindsay didn't bring him, in fact if he had told her of his plan before he bought the plane ticket she probably would have refused. But here he was.

"All of the girls. They have a family rule, something about 'Don't get attached.' It's strange."

"Does that include Kit to you?" Flack immediately regretted the question, it was out of line. Questioning openings was his nature, part of his job, and he worked hard to shut it off and pose no questions to Lindsay this week, it just flew out. But Paulie didn't seem to mind, he just laughed gently.

"Growing up in Lindsay Monroe's shadow was not an easy thing. Lindsay was Captain of the swim-team, an all-state debater, A-student, never got into trouble. Lindsay was focused and driven. She always knew she wanted to be a CSI. She hung out with Tuff a lot, he taught her things."

Flack thought that sounded like Lindsay, but was a strange goal given that here, in her hometown there were no CSIs.

"In the beginning Kit and I had one thing in common, always trying to live up to Lindsay. I graduated second in our class, guess who was first?" He gestured to Lindsay.

"Kit could be a wild-child. Lindsay reigned her in a lot when she was home. Gave her focus, nudged her away from bad paths, in a way a Dad sometimes can't but an older sister can, if you know what I mean."

Flack nodded, he understood. If Daddy tried to lay down the law that would only make someone like Kit rebel more.

"Did their Dad grow up here too?" Flack asked.

"No the family came here when I was about seven, so Lindsay would have been six. They moved after their Mom died. Their Dad couldn't live with memories where they came from."

"Where was that?" Flack asked.

"I never really knew, not sure I ever asked. Didn't seem important."

Flack's cell phone rang. It was Mac.

"Excuse me." Flack said holding up a finger.

"Flack." He said into the phone turning away from Paulie taking a few steps.

The image in the crime scene photos from Montana had haunted Mac. The vic seemed familiar but he couldn't place him. It took him a few days to recall a face from his basic training. Lindsay's dead father was a ringer for Andrew Lawrence. Mac had brought his group photo from basic to the lab to compare with the one from the suits. The similarities seemed uncanny. So he had Montana send over the DNA from the case. The DNA from the victim, Lindsay's father, didn't match the control sample they had in their lab systems for Lindsay. There were no alleles in common. They were not biological related. Mac had cautiously felt around to see if Danny knew anything about Lindsay's background and he seemed not to. So Mac thought he would try Flack as they appeared to be friends, he had driven her home that night.

"Flack, its Mac."

"Hey, how are you?" Flack didn't tell anyone he was coming with Lindsay. He started wondering if Mac knew.

"Listen I need to ask you a question, and I need for you to not ask me why." Mac knew he could trust Flack.

"Sure."

"Do you know if Lindsay was adopted?"

Flack turned around and looked at Holly, Lindsay, Kit and Tyler, they all looked to Flack to be carved out of the same block of cream cheese.

"I don't think so. Her sisters and nephew are dead ringers for her."

"You've seen pictures?" Mac asked knowing Lindsay had none the he could find on her desk.

Flack couldn't start lying to Mac now.

"No Mac, I was at the funeral, and I'm looking at them all right now."

Mac tried not to let his voice reflect his surprise. But Flack was on leave, his time was his own to do whatever he wanted.

"Was he a stepfather? Mother's second marriage?"

"I don't think so, the older sister is five years older, younger two behind, so you're talking about seven years, and they look like they fell off the same corn float at the All-American parade. Plus the mother died when Lindsay was five or six so the younger sister was…three or four. Not a lot of time for a woman to find and remarry to a man willing to take on three girls, let alone keep them for his own when the mother dies. Mac, I know I said I wouldn't ask, but I gotta ask - why?"

"Lindsay's DNA doesn't match what the state of Montana is saying is her Dad's DNA."

"What? Does Lindsay know that? Does Montana know that?"

"I don't know. She has her DNA in our system as a control, she wouldn't be in national databases."

"Ok…listen, let me see what I can find out and I'll keep you posted." The two hung up.

That night after everyone else left, it was only Kit, Paulie, Lindsay and Flack.

"Hey, Daddy didn't want us to get attached to things right?" Kit asked.

"Yes" Lindsay replied.

"Let's have a glass of his port in his memory. We'll be getting rid of the port in the house, one less thing."

"The old man would have loved that." Paulie said.

Lindsay left and returned with four glasses and a bottle of 20-yr old port. She pour three glasses and half of one for Flack. Flack had never had port before, and wasn't a fan, so he nursed what she had poured him while the other drank a few glasses, and Kit seemed to be downing them and refilling them faster than anyone else. Paulie toasted "To Christopher Monroe, he will be missed."

Then Kit toasted "To the Nina, the Gina and the Santa Maria" she gestured towards Lindsay with the last two words dripping with resentment.

"Kit, what's the matter with you?" Lindsay almost jumped out of her seat at the strange toast Flack didn't understand.

"She's just drunk." Paulie said looking to Lindsay and then Flack. "Drunk people make weird toasts out of context. Whatever. Better not to make a big deal about it." He said looking at her sternly, his voice with more force than Flack had heard him use all day.

"As long as it doesn't happen again." Lindsay said backing down.

After Paulie left, Don went to bed first. He was tired, his leg throbbing, he needed to lie down and wanted to afford Lindsay and Kit time to talk about family matters. He wasn't sure if Lindsay would be back to spend the night with him again given that she seemed upset with him about something, and she had spent so much time that day talking one on one with Paulie. Perhaps she was thinking better of leaning on Flack. But, he left the door slightly ajar and slept on the right side of the bed, just in case.

Around midnight he heard two sets of steps come upstairs, one entering Kits room, one entering Lindsay's. Soon after he heard Kits door open again, and soft footfalls across the hall. For a second he panicked, if Kit came in to his room…. But the footsteps went instead to Lindsay's room. Being suspicious by profession he wondered if he should be worried for Lindsay, if perhaps Kit had something to do with her father's death, and now Lindsay might be in danger. But then he heard the sobbing through the walls. Then two sets. Then, in muted tones, through the wall, what he knew to be Lindsay's voice, in quiet tones. Then coherent, reasoned soft sentences and the sobbing subsided. A few minutes later he heard whispers and eventually giggling.

He smiled to think that it was no wonder Lindsay couldn't sleep alone her childhood bed, she probably never had, always sharing it with her little sister. In spite of himself he thought of Messer. How that man would be kicking himself if he knew that not only was there one beautiful, grieving Monroe in the room next door, but two.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – A Pass

The next morning when Flack awoke he could smell coffee and hear the two women downstairs already. He showered, and got dressed in jeans and a blue tee shirt with an NYPD insignia on the left chest. When he went downstairs to the kitchen both Lindsay and Kit had their hair drawn back into a pony-tail and were wearing pink tank tops with the words "Centerville Cheerleaders" across the chest and grey gym shorts that defined the word short. Flack swallowed hard and made every attempt not to gape at the pair of beautiful women. Whatever Lindsay had done yesterday for early-morning exercise she clearly dragged Kit along this morning, but Flack could tell it was less intense than the previous day. Kit was sitting at the table drinking coffee, her knees drawn to her chest laughing with her sister. Lindsay standing, cooking, by the stove. Flack wished he had his camera phone with him, this was a site he had to let Messer know he missed. Each of them fit and tone, shapely and beautiful. The picture of beauty and athleticism.

"Good morning officer," Kit said eyebrows raised. "You're right Linds, he does look even hotter in jeans than the suit." She said.

Lindsay was already pouring Flack coffee and she stood in front him, shaking her head, handing him the full cup.

"Forgive her Flack, she's a child." She said as she turned away and refilled her sisters cup with the pot she held in the other hand. "He's not an officer, he's a Detective, airhead."

"You call him Flack?" Kit asked.

"Yes, I do. And he calls me Monroe. Except not around here, because you might answer and he doesn't want you." Lindsay taunted. She returned to the stove.

Sisters, Flack thought. But then it did seem strange to him that he and Lindsay didn't use first names. At work it was work, practice. But here, everyone used their first names, so calling her Monroe and being called Flack had a more comfortable intimacy to it. A custom they shared.

"Every man wants me." Kit said leaning back in her chair. Lindsay threw a waded up paper towel at her.

Flack walked over to the stove, holding his coffee in one hand, he placed the other on Lindsay's midriff and kissed her cheek, "Good morning Monroe." He wanted to go on record that she was the Monroe he wanted. The gesture and its meaning didn't escape her.

She beamed at him, "Good morning."

They spent that day working out details with Holly and on the phone with the family lawyer. Their father had left provisions for Holly and Tyler to get the big house and Kit to get the one Holly and Tyler currently occupied. The assumption was Lindsay was staying in New York.

Lindsay and Flack were to leave on the first flight out the next morning. Lindsay and Kit prepared a big meal for Holly, Tyler, Paulie, Flack and themselves.

Over dinner Holly asked, "Lindsay, Tyler asked for your room to be his. Should I send anything of yours to you in New York?"

"No, you can toss anything you need to. I'm not attached to any of it." Her words seemed the family mantra. Flack wanted to suggest the cheerleading uniform but thought better of it in mixed company.

After dinner, Tyler and Holly left first. Then Kit left with Paulie amid many assurances that Flack and Lindsay could manage to get themselves to the airport in the morning. When they left Lindsay leaned her back against the front door and let out a loud sigh.

"They're not that bad." Flack said.

Lindsay closed her eyes for a minute and then smiled, "I'm sure to you, they don't seem that bad."

Flack helped her clean up, and was standing next to her when she finished the dishes. They were conversing about family, upbringing, religion, cheerleading, anything. When she hung her dish towel on the rack and shut off the water she looked up at him. He was an oasis. She could get lost in his eyes. He was this man from New York that she knew to be tough and sexy, and smart, and kind. He was here, with her, in Montana. He was breath-taking. He turned, his hip leaning on the counter, he was facing her.

"Flack, can I have a pass?" she asked looking in his blue eyes.

"A pass?" he asked softly. He had seen her in so many new lights over the last few days. She had this strength that awed him, and this mystery that intrigued him, and this beauty and softness that drew him deeper and deeper in.

"Yes, a five minute pass for not being allowed to kiss you. I promise when its up, nothing more will happen until we're home in New York and you say it's OK. But you've been next to me, talking to me, near me, for days. I can't explain the science of it to you, but if I can't kiss you now, I might pass out." He noticed that to her now, New York was 'home.'

He laughed. He put his hand on her upper arm. "Monroe. Please know that its not that I want to be enforcing you not kissing me. Good God, that's not what I want. I just want to be fair to you. If what you think you are feeling is real, it can keep. I'm not going anywhere. Unless you tell me to go away, I will be by your side. But if you're just hurt and lonely, and reaching, I don't want to be the one who uses that to get close to you." His body seemed disconnected from his train of thought as he took a step closer to her, making the gap between them so narrow that her body was lightly pressing against him.

"Ok Flack. I appreciate that." He could feel her breath as she spoke. "You're a perfect gentleman, and incredibly sweet and thoughtful. But that just makes me need to kiss you more." Her hands were around his waist, her voice soft.

"Monroe…"

"Just a five minute pass." She said. She didn't wait for an answer as her body leaned against his. She had to stand on her toes, and she pressed her lips to his, and parted his mouth with her tongue. He kissed her back. He couldn't stop that, there was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her.

After a few minutes she stopped and leaned her head against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding. He held her, there in the kitchen next to the sink in her dead Father's house, but he knew the next morning he was taking her home.

That night she made no pretext of sleeping in her own room. She changed and came into Flack's bed, waiting for him to be ready to go to sleep. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the cream on his burns. She knelt behind him and took the medication from his hand. She gently spread it on the jagged burns that wrapped around to his back She knew it would be impossible for him to reach on his own and she could see it wasn't healing nearly at the rate as the wounds on his stomach. She laid her palm gently covering as much of the burn as she could with her hand and kissed the back of his neck, handing him back the tube.

When he shut off the lights and laid down in bed, she leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. "Thank you for being here Flack."

He made no reply. He could not respond, all he wanted to say was that with her was the only place he wanted to be, but he had to keep a distance. When she fell asleep she was holding her body against his left arm the way she had the other night. It wasn't lost on him that he was literally holding her arms length away.

By 3am when he woke from the nightmare he couldn't remember, their bodies had shifted through the night. Her head laid on his bare chest and his arm around her back. When he started she woke too. She could feel him breathing quickly and the sweat that covered him. She knew it was the explosion.

"Flack," She whispered. "Its OK." She ran her hand over his cheek, and turned his face to her and gently kissed him. She wanted to do anything for him. To soothe him, to take his pain away. She ran her hand through his hair. "I am by your side too." She whispered. She kissed his cheek and neck. He said nothing. Her hand remained on his face until his breathing calmed and she thought he was asleep. "My Don," she said kissing his neck once more, and falling asleep herself with her head on the left side of his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Community Service

Lindsay had been so absorbed in catching up on her work that she didn't notice most of the day had already gone by. When her cell phone rang at 5pm she smiled as she saw the caller ID.

"Hey Cowboy, you hankering to see those big skies again yet?" Danny's head snapped up when he realized the nickname was not reserved for him.

"Are you kidding me Monroe? My lungs were so happy to be breathing bus exhaust again, they're practically leaping out of my chest."

She laughed and groaned at the same time, "That's terrible." She said smiling.

He was glad to hear her in a light mood, he was worried about her all day. "How's is it getting back to the grind?"

"Not bad, I even processed a bloody crime scene without vomiting." She said. Danny was starting to get uptight. What were these? Inside jokes? He knew of every scene she worked since coming to New York and she never vomited at any of them. Who was this on the phone?

"Well things are looking up then," Flack said. She could hear street noise on the line.

"How have you been spending your day?" She asked grinning at how just the sound of his voice warmed her.

"Shooting hoops with the neighborhood kids. Whipping them into humility helps keep them on the right path." She could hear the grin in his voice too. "Besides, they're the only ones home during the afternoon to play with me."

"I'm sure the department disability board would be interested to hear of your stamina. Aren't you still on paid leave?" She said playfully.

Flack? Was it Flack? Danny wondered.

"Narc on me Monroe I'm begging you. I'm dying to get back to work."

She laughed. "I know. I'm sorry. At least it sounds like you are still serving the community."

"Yeah, about that. That's why I'm calling. I need to ask a favor."

"Sure," she said spinning on her stool so her back was to Danny.

"Couple of the kids mentioned they got a big Science Fair coming up. I don't mind keeping them off the streets, giving the scared straight talk and all that, but this is out of my league. You interested in helping them build a volcano or turn a potato into a battery or whatever you guys do?"

She laughed. "Are you serious? I would love to. Any ideas yet or is it up to me?"

"Its all you Monroe."

"Ok, I can't do it tonight I will be here late, I have to catch up. But would tomorrow after work be OK?"

Great, now they're going on a date, Danny thought.

"Yeah sure, its like a month away or something, they got time." Flack said.

"Yeah but we can do some really cool things with that time, long-lived controls, deviations over time, multiple variables…." He cut her off. What kind of date was this? Messer puzzled.

"Sorry Monroe my eyes just glazed over. How late are you working tonight? I got see a guy about some paperwork If I'm at the station anyway I can give you a ride home and get you more details. As long as you don't talk about long-lived controls…I might fall asleep at the wheel."

She laughed. "Ok, ok. I'll be here tonight…" she spun back around to the lab table and looked over a few things "until about 7:30-8?"

"K, see you later."

"Bye." She said smiling at his last joke.

Danny just shook his head and returned to his evidence. What Flack didn't mention was that he was actually going to talk to Mac about the DNA and some other things that to him just weren't adding up.

At 7:35 Flack entered the lab. Lindsay was still processing evidence but was alone in this area.

"Hey" he greeted her.

Lindsay looked up from her work and beamed when she saw him "Hey." He was wearing an untucked button-down shirt and jeans. In spite of herself she felt a huge smile broaden across her face at the sight of him. It had only been about 36 hours since she saw him last but she missed him, she had gotten used to spending her days with him. Damnit, her heart sank a little, she was pretty sure she was attached.

"You need more time?" he asked seeing a myriad of papers and samples strewn about the lab.

"No. I'm just disorganized. I can go." She lined a things up into several different piles and started taking off her lab coat. To Flack she looked like a film was on her. She was professional and distant here.

They walked together to the elevator and into his car. She stretched and yawned. Her elbow on the car door, she leaned her head in her hand.

"Have you eaten?" he asked backing the car out.

"No," she replied, her eyes still closed.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to get something, but you look exhausted." He had left her at her door yesterday, he was guessing she didn't sleep well last night.

She sat up and turned to him "No, no. I want to eat with you." She said, she clasped his upper arm with both her hands but was still slunken in her seat.

"How about we get take out in your neighborhood, and you can just relax."

"OK," She said releasing his arm.

They ate in her apartment talking about Flack's neighborhood kids, their neighborhoods, and their own times in high school. When they were cleaning up she leaned into him hugging him.

"Don, I'm so tired." She said.

"I can tell. Why don't you just go to bed?"

"Mmm." Was all she replied. He imagined it was nightmares, like his own, that kept her from seeing her bed as a haven. He stroked her hair.

He was trying to give her space. They were now back home in New York. If he stayed with her to help her sleep she could be seeing him as some walking security blanket, nothing more. As if she read his thought she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She kissed him sweetly on the lips while her hand moved up and down his back..

"I want to ask you to stay with me tonight. I sleep better when you're with me. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I think you think I don't know what I want. But I do. I want to be with you. But tonight I am so tired." It made sense to him, in Montana she carried everyone's weight, here when she could breath again she was exhausted. "Its just, I just…" she stammered.

He looked at her eyes. He could never refuse her anything. He kissed her.

"Its OK Lindsay. Of course I will stay. Lets just take it all one step at a time. But this step, we've already done."

She smiled and moved her hands to under his shirt. "Thank you." She needed to touch him. She needed him, she had tried to fight against it. Maybe he was right, maybe it was all the timing. Maybe if she weren't trying to deal with her father's death and all that it meant she could have built better defenses against him. She inhaled him and she felt his arms around her. Maybe she never would have been able to build defenses against him.

Flack slept shirtless in his boxers on the right side of her bed. At 3AM when he woke she kissed him sweetly. She started by gently reassuring him as she had in Montana. When the panic that woke him seemed to subside, she kissed him more passionately. She could feel herself falling for this man. She could hear her father telling her not to get attached, but she was driven from something she couldn't reason away. Her tongue was in his mouth her arms around him. He kissed her back. Her hand swept over his shoulder, his back, his side. She wanted to feel every inch of him. She knew parts of him ached, hurt, burned. She wasn't afraid of that, she just touched more lightly when she feared it pained him. He held her, unsure of himself. He didn't want to fall in love with Lindsay Monroe, he just couldn't stop kissing her. His hand slid from her back and moved to her hip. Her body shifted against his. He kissed her more deeply. Then he remember he couldn't be this man to her now. He slowed down. He stopped caressing her. He took his tongue from her mouth.

"Lindsay," He whispered. "One step at a time OK? For both of us."

She kissed him again, not because she was trying to change his mind, but because she was trying to slow down for him.

"Lindsay. I want to be with you. I just don't want to rush it." He kissed her. "But God, I want you." He kissed her again.

After she fell asleep he noticed the ring and chain had slipped out from under her top. He gently held the ring to catch a glint of street light from the window. The inscription read "Always for Nina, Gina and Maria."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Who are you?

It was Flack's first day back on the job. He and Lindsay had spent the last few weeks getting closer, closer than Flack had planned. She helped the kids in his building and spent nights at his place. He took her to dinners and dates, and spent the night at her place. The night before his first shift back, by his own design he had spent the night alone in his own apartment. The job needed focus and he wanted to be in control. Lindsay understood, she had her rituals too and wasn't hurt by his need to be alone before he started back. But as luck would have it, his first call was across the street from Lindsay's apartment.

Danny, Stella and Mac were all on the scene. Lindsay's shift didn't start for another couple of hours, but she saw the scene from her window and went down to the street with her kit. She was putting on gloves as she heard Flack giving the run down to the team.

"Victim is Dino Frotando. A guest of one of our finer federal establishments until recently."

Lindsay stood. She looked to Flack, the vic, and back again. She put her hands up slightly as if to indicate "I didn't touch him."

"Is Mac here?" her voice a whisper as she asked Stella, who pointed a half a block away talking to some uniforms.

Flack was puzzled by her actions and watched as she approached Mac.

"Mac. I need to talk to you." He turned to face her and said nothing.

"Mac, I could be a suspect in this." His gazed deepened but he still said nothing. "I testified against that man for killing my parents when I was six years old. I put him away for 20 years. I didn't know he was out until Flack just said his name."

"Ok," said Mac thinking.

"And Mac," she half-turned pointing to her building behind Flack. I live over there. Mac's eyes narrowed.

"So what you're telling me Lindsay is that you had motive, opportunity, and a weapon so means."

"Yes." She said, looking at him seriously.

"Ok, let's hand this to the feds and let them process to avoid the appearance of impropriety. Lindsay stand over there," he pointed to a curb away from the scene. "Officer," Mac called a uniform to him. "Officer this CSI's weapon is evidence in this case. She will turn it over to the federal agents when they arrive, just be sure she doesn't touch it in the meantime." He said gesturing towards Lindsay. She knew Mac was trying to establish a witness for her and her weapon but she felt like a suspect. Mac walked over to the scene.

"What's this?" Danny said, pulling something from the vic's pockets as Mac approached. "Plane tickets. Where you been Dino?" Danny carefully unfolded the papers "Huh, Montana? Small world."

"Listen up everyone," Mac interrupted. "This is a federal case now. Wrap up what you're doing, document it, then back off, we're waiting for the feds."

Mac turned to Stella. "Did Lindsay touch this body?"

"No, she put her gloves on then went to look for you." She replied.

"Ok, do me a favor document that in your book." Stella nodded.

Flack was bewildered. Was Lindsay literally making a federal case of them working together? He had seen her point in his direction when talking to Mac.

"Flack, come with me." Mac said. Flack's heart sank, now he felt sure she was.

Mac stopped midway between the scene and where Lindsay was standing with the uniform.

"Listen Flack, I am trying to be discrete." Mac started.

"Mac, I don't know what she told you about us, but its…" Mac cut him off.

"Listen to me. She's a possible suspect in this. If you are close to her, I imagine the feds will want to talk to you too. I am sending everyone else back to the lab, except a couple of uniforms, you and me, and we'll wait for them, but you are not to talk to her."

"A suspect? Why?"

"We'll know more later."

After the feds arrived and took charge of the crime scene, they took Lindsay's gun, and she entered a car with two agents which soon drove off.

Another agent approached Flack.

"Detective Flack. Agent Asher. You went to Montana with Detective Monroe about a month ago?"

"Yes I did to attend her father's funeral."

"And did you or Ms. Monroe meet up with or have any interactions with Mr. Frotando while there?"

"No."

"Did you know if Ms. Monroe's connection with Mr. Frotando?"

"No."

"Have you fired your weapon today?"

"No."

"Do you have any objections if we test you for GSR?"

He looked to Mac who nodded. "No, I have no objection."

"Ok. We won't do it on the street. We'll take you back to our offices."

"I'll drive him there." Mac said.

On the ride, Mac offered nothing more although he had his own theory, he would wait for confirmation.

They were seated in a room they both knew to be an interrogation room. A federal agent and a tech came in.

One tested Flack's hands, jacket and shirt cuffs, and took his gun. The other waited until the procedure was done, and shook both their hands. "Chuck Drude. Nice to meet you." He sat opposite them. "I am with the WPP." Mac nodded, it took Flack an instant to register, Witness Protection Program. "Lindsay Monroe checked in with us when she moved here, we're considering her cover blown now. When I was assigned to her here, I read the case file. It was legend in the program, I didn't honestly think it was true until I read it. "

Flack shifted in his seated, he wasn't sure he liked this guy's tone about Lindsay.

"We're not sure we have the whole story, only pieces." Mac said. Druder nodded.

"Twenty years ago, Dino Frotando, major player, and two of his guys break into their accountant's house in the middle of the night. Thought he was up to something. They know there are three little girls in the house. They go into the master bedroom, silencer's on and ice the parents, two shots each to the head. Old school guys though they probably would have left the girls. Problem was the middle girl was in the bed with the parents. Sick or something. Of course we don't know what went on in that room when they found her, but she ends up with a shot through the stomach. She saw their faces, they left her for dead, five years old."

Flack was leaning forward in his chair, gritting his teeth. He was clenching and unclenching his fists. This was hard to hear.

"Anyway, she crawls to the front door. Probably took hours with the wound, opens it, that's where she collapsed and the neighbors found her. Between getting the door open, and hugging this stuffed cat the whole time, stopping the bleeding, she probably saved her own life. Who knows how long those three girls would have been in the house before someone found them. The older girl went completely catatonic when she went into the parents bedroom in the morning."

Flack could barely sit in his chair, he needed to find her, hold her, take her away from this man and these words.

"It goes on from there. No one, and I mean no one wants anything to do with these girls. They're marked now you know. Dangerous. No one in the family would take them in. There's an attempt on the middle one in the hospital. They end up all three in police custody, the middle one still in a hospital bed with IVs, and nurses tending her. Good thing too the older one didn't eat the whole time until the middle one was with her, telling her to. Anyway, one of ours, Fed on the case, he can't let this go. When she finally can, middle one testifies. Puts two of three away, and the agent on their case gives it all up, became legal guardian and goes into the system himself. They have been in Montana ever since."

"Why would they put a little girl on the stand?" Mac asked.

"They couldn't get enough evidence. They needed her to put them away," Drude answered. Flack knew instantly why she dreamed of being a CSI as a child. She could find the evidence, keep another kid off the stand.

"And today?" Mac asked.

"There Dino turned up, across the street from her apartment, a month after Andy turns up dead."

"Andy?" Flack asked.

"Their father, guardian. That was his old name anyway, Andy Lawrence, aka Christopher Monroe."

"What are the girls old names?" Flack asked, for confirmation.

"Middle was Maria, older was," he opened a file. "Oldest was Nina, youngest was Regina." 'The Nina, the Gina and the Santa Maria' all tended by Christopher.

"What happens now?" Flack asked.

"Assuming she had nothing to do with Dino turning up on the sidewalk. She has the same choice as her sisters. We've already spoken to them. They have elected to be reabsorbed into the program. Get new identities. Lindsay has to decide if she wants to stay Lindsay, take a chance Dino's associates will be looking for her or become someone else, somewhere else. If she stays Lindsay her sisters are dead to her."

"If she becomes someone new?" Flack asked.

"She is dead to us." Mac answered. He knew the weight of his words to Flack. He knew it was more than losing a coworker.

"When does she have to decide?" Flack asked.

"Probably today, again we have to clear her of anything to do with this. She has motive anyone can understand." Drude answered.

Flack stood up and took a step towards the door. Mac grabbed his arm. "You have to let her decide, Don."

"Are we done here?" Mac asked.

"Yes he's been cleared. You can go."

As they stepped into the elevator and turned Flack caught sight of Lindsay. She saw him too and stepped away from the agents she was with to keep eye contact as he stood in the elevator. She mouthed "I'm so sorry."

Flack put his arm out to hold the doors open. He shook his head silently mouthing to her "Its OK." He motioned in her direction with his head, "You OK?"

She nodded. Then she looked around considering the circumstances, gave a small laugh and shrugged. Mac pulled Flack's arm from the elevator door and it closed.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Its all for you

He called her and went to her apartment but she wasn't there. He went to his apartment hoping she would know where to find him. He paced and waited, he wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again and he was staggered at the pain that caused him. He knew her. Maybe she had a different name when she was younger but her knew her. He knew how she took her coffee, he knew she listened to classical music in the shower, jazz when she was reading, and corny 80's dance music when she cooked. He knew what made her laugh and he knew the taste of her tears. He knew she could recite chapter and verse on the evidence for every crime scene she'd worked, and he knew she couldn't tell you the current balance of her checking account. He knew her. He just didn't know what to hope for now. Should he hope she cut herself off from her family to stay with him? Should he hope that she knew he would understand if she chose to be with her sisters?

She went to the top of Empire State Building, she rode the Staten Island Ferry. She was in New York. She was Lindsay Monroe in New York and she wanted to savor it. She went to Flack's apartment. She was sure he knew it all now. How could she apologize for the lie that was her life that she perpetuated to him? If she stayed here as Lindsay would it be too much for him, would he think it was all for him, and would that pressure destroy any chance they might have had? If she went away, she could never see him again. She needed to make a decision. She made the call from the sidewalk outside his building, even while she could see him pacing through the window.

He heard footsteps in the hall. He heard them stop outside his door. She didn't knock, she was leaning against the wall opposite his door when he opened it. He went to her, practically lunging at her, his hands on her hips, he bent at the knees slightly to try to look into her eyes which were downcast. She just shook her head, she looked numb, she wouldn't meet his eyes. He put his arm around her and led her into his apartment.

He held her. He didn't question her. It was what he did for her, part of his role. Every moment to him, an agony. He couldn't read her pain. Was she leaving him? Was she grieving her sisters? He could tell she was resolute. Whatever it was, it had been decided.

Her face against his shoulder she whispered, "I'm sorry I never told you."

"Lindsay. Don't. You couldn't. I get that. It was for you and your family that you could never let the truth out."

She leaned away from him to look at him.

"No," her voice a firm whisper. She could see the depth of his sincerity and concern in his endless blue eyes. "I mean yes. But, if I told you, then you would know too. And knowing would have put you at risk. I didn't think I couldn't trust you with it. But I couldn't put you in danger."

He let her words sink in. It was for him that she continued to lie to him. He wasn't upset about the lie, about the past. He was scared for the future.

"Lindsay what are you going to do?"

She motioned to the couch, to sit.

"I called to tell them what I wanted to do." Flack sat down and she folded one leg beneath her leaning into him, but looking into his eyes. "Agent Druder said 'Detective Monroe as I indicated earlier, you decision was final. Your sister's accident will happen tomorrow. Since your sister and Paul Dwyer have eloped he will be going with them and your nephew.' It took me a minute to figure out what he meant. But Kit must have called him and told him she was me, and that I wanted to stay Lindsay. She made the decision for me."

He bit his lip to not ask her what she was calling to tell them. He would never ask. It didn't matter, she was going to be with him.

"Lindsay. I don't know what to say. I know how much you love them. I can't imagine the loss you are feeling." He leaned in and held her. "But I am so glad I haven't lost you."

She didn't answer him. She just stayed in his arms, comforted by his presence, his silence, his warmth, his affection. Eventually they went to bed. She clung to him, but he knew she was not herself. She was a shell, hollowed out.

At three AM when he woke from the nightmare he wouldn't remember, she kissed his neck at first softly. She ran her hands through his hair. She found his lips and parted her own as she kissed him. Flack kissed her back. His hands betrayed him as they hungrily ran over her back, her hips, her thighs. She pressed her hips into him, kissing him more deeply, more wantonly. She broke the kiss and pressed her forehead against his cheek as she whispered. "I need you Don." She continued to gently thrust and her hips against his, back and forth and she ran her fingernails lightly down his arms. He wondered to himself how he had let it get this far. Where had he lost his track? He couldn't be this man to her. He had told her it was because she was broken and he would be taking advantage of her. He needed her to believe that so she wouldn't look closely and see that he was broken too. But now here they were, she was kissing him and he only wanted to live up to her. He wanted to give to her, she had been cheated from so much. He wanted to do for her the things men could do for women. He wanted to make her forget what was behind her, forget the pain. He wanted to take her to a place that everything else was blocked out.

He put a hand on the back of her head and drew her back into a kiss. His other hand removed her shorts. Her leg drew up around his thigh. He kissed her, matching each gentle thrust of her hips with his tongue. He brought his hand on her back under her shirt and slowly ran it over her body. She inhaled sharply and drew his hips closer with her leg. He ran his hand down her abdomen and inserted it in her panties. She stopped kissing him, and moved back to his ear, whispering. "Don. I need you. I need you inside of me, I need to be connected to you." He felt her words in his heart. His shoulders stiffened as he pulled her body yet even closer to him. She ran her hand down his side, over his hip and to the front of his thigh and was starting to move back up. How had he let it get here? It wasn't supposed to get to this. Her words again after kissing him softly just under his ear. She hissed, "I need you Don." _She_, the smart, strong, beautiful Lindsay Monroe, _needed,_ she used the word with desperation, urgency, as if he were oxygen to her, _him_, Don Flack, a plain old cop from NY. Inside he wanted to scream, it was never supposed to get to this.

"Please make love to me." She whispered.

He took his hand out from under her clothes and gently pulled her hand from his thigh, guiding it to his back.

"Lindsay." He used his shoulders to move her so he could kiss her again while running his hand over her hair. He pulled away and tucked his chin over the top of her head. It was handy he was so much taller when he wanted to avoid her eyes. "I can't right now." She froze. Was he reacting to her use of the word love? Should she try to back-pedal, and explain it was just an expression?

"I need more time," he said. She didn't understand. She shook her head slightly. He was still holding her. It didn't feel to her like she was rushing this. He knew her, knew all of her. Something no one else ever had. And he stood by her, never judging her, only always being there to catch her. Maybe that was it. He had told her she was healing and she shouldn't rush that. But he said _he_ needed more time. Oh good God. Was there someone else? She never entertained that thought before. But it was of course possible. He was a fine-looking man. He was sweet and polite, but smart and funny. And he carried a gun and a shield. That power was a turn on for women. Of course there was another woman. She felt like a fool.

She stiffened and pulled back in his arms. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No, no, no. Lindsay." He said. "Its not that I don't want to. God." He pulled her back again and tried to think of a way to say it. "Its not that I don't want you. I've never wanted anything so bad in my life. You're all I think about. The thought of what it would be like to make love to you pulls me out of anything I am doing and distracts me 100 times a day." He tried to pull her into a kiss again, but she gently resisted and he ended up looking into her beautiful, hurt eyes. This was going to be hard. Her brow was furrowed, she wanted so much to understand. He was holding her heart in his hand and she needed to know what he was going to do with it.

He started again, whispering. "Lindsay, in the explosion." Her eyes changed, softened. Just as she appreciated that Don never asked her questions she preferred not to answer, she always assumed the explosion had the same boundaries for him. He would tell her if he needed to, but she never questioned him on it. He squinted, he felt ashamed, lessened. "It fractured my pelvic bone." Her eyes widened with concern, but not yet understanding. "As far as love-making, I'm on the IR for a while more." She shuddered. What he had been living with that he didn't tell her? Her heart was in her throat. "While the fracture's still healing, if I…strain it, it could break, and that would mean a body cast, which I'd like to avoid." She shifted his body and her own so he was on his back, and she was laying on the bed on his left side, leaning on his chest but her weight no longer on him. She took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. He kissed her back. In a way he felt relieved.

"Don, I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry. I feel so insensitive." She was almost crying.

"It's OK, I'm feeling pretty inadequate right now so we're quite a pair, insensitive and inadequate." She smiled at him. She laid her head back on his shoulder and kissed his neck.

"Lindsay. In this day and age, I don't know if people say this without sex. But I do love you. I'm sorry if that makes me a sap, and I'm sorry I can't be a man for you right now."

His words pierced her. She sat back up, looking him in the eye. "Don, you are the only man for me, now or ever." She kissed him and smirked at him, "busted up pelvic bone and all." She laid back down on his shoulder. "I love you." She found his hand resting on his stomach and held it.

"Its sweet. We have to be old-fashioned." She smiled to herself.

"Oh yeah, that sounds fun." He said. She couldn't see his face but she was sure he was rolling his eyes.

"Well," She said playfully stroking his arm. "You're the one who won't break your pelvis for me."

"Baby, I'm only thinking of you. Can you imagine what a wreck you'd be if you got a taste of this now and then had to wait from more until the cast was off."


End file.
